Nicole Kidman on Miles Teller as Sutter Keely in “The Spectacular Now”

Jessica Chastain on Robert Redford as Our Man in “All Is Lost”

Ellen Burstyn on Melissa Leo as Holly Jones in “Prisoners”

James McAvoy on Michael Fassbender as Edwin Epps in “12 Years a Slave”

Melissa McCarthy on Julia Louis-Dreyfus as Eva in “Enough Said”

Rachel Weisz on Oscar Isaac as Llewyn Davis in “Inside Llewyn Davis”

Jeff Bridges on Christian Bale as Russell Baze in “Out of the Furnace”

Steve Martin on Tom Hanks as Capt. Phillips in “Captain Phillips”

Colin Farrell on Emma Thompson as P.L. Travers in “Saving Mr. Banks”

Amanda Seyfried on Hugh Jackman as Keller Dover in “Prisoners”

It’s been said about Hugh Jackman that there is nothing he can’t do, but until his wrenching performance in “Prisoners,” I don’t think people knew just how true that statement was. I was privileged to have Hugh play my father in “Les Miserables” and I know he drew on his own experience as a loving and protective parent for that film.

So I cannot even imagine how difficult it must have been for him to portray a father faced with the worst thing imaginable: a missing child. The raw emotion and desperation that he brought to his performance are so visceral and real.

He shows us the soul of this character and, in doing so, makes us ask ourselves what we would do in his place. That connection to the audience makes his already compelling performance all the more powerful.

(Seyfried was seen this year in the films “Lovelace” and “The Big Wedding.”)

Every now and then when watching a film, an actor appears who causes you to gasp at the ease of their artistry that is revealed throughout the film. You find yourself sitting straight up in your seat because so much that is passed off as acting is just accepted. When you watch “12 Years a Slave,” you are seeing some of the best art has to offer. Some actors you will know, and some you won’t and one, Lupita Nyong’o, makes you want to go grab folks off the street and say, “Watch this young woman!”

She is fresh from Yale and this is her first film gig. In her art, the gamut is run. She finds so much in this script, and somehow in her youth and newness you see the invisible dust of ages and strength beyond her age and reason. She does what we are supposed to do as actors: Take you, then return you, and when finished, make you feel like we have held off time. And I would be remiss if I didn’t also tell you that she is achingly beautiful outside of character, which I think will be new for Hollywood. This young lady is one of a kind.

(Goldberg won the supporting actress Oscar for ’90s “Ghost.”)

Cate has an incredible talent. She is a supremely intelligent person and that, mixed with excellent instincts and deep sensitivity to the parts she plays, makes her a very rare actor: someone who can shift and adapt to embody characters of such a broad spectrum. She can be sophisticated or base, in control or pathetic, low-status or high, villainous or heroic, comic or tragic. No challenge seems to evade her. Her work in “Blue Jasmine” puts the full gamut on show, and reminds us again why she holds such a top shelf place in the minds of audiences and industry people alike. Her performances are bold, her characters detailed and well observed, and her presence onstage and onscreen is so honest.

And while it all seems effortless, I was excited to see when I worked with Cate on “A Streetcar Named Desire,” she is not one to rest on her heels. Cate was always the first actor onstage before every performance, preparing every night. She is a workhorse. Always crafting, honing her skill and bettering herself.

(Edgerton’s film credits include “The Great Gatsby.”)

There is a dignity and grace to Idris Elba’s performance as Nelson Mandela that permeates every frame of Justin Chadwick’s “Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom,” whether Elba is present onscreen or not. Beautifully supported by Naomie Harris, and held in the stunning cinematography of Lol Crawley’s South Africa, we absorb this remarkable story and the rich talent of this striking actor in waves of diverse and modulated intensity. We experience Elba’s Mandela inhaling life, from early adulthood to maturity. We watch him learn and react. We witness the evolution of a mind and heart molded by decades of challenge, observation and endurance. But it is the look behind Idris’ eyes, where connections are forming, underneath the language and his character’s charismatic persona, that I found most powerful and arresting. It takes discipline and patience as an actor to allow such space to exist in a performance, and extreme skill to do it with such warmth and strength.

(Linney has received three Oscar nominations for her work.)

Jake Gyllenhaal in “Prisoners” was simply a cop doing his job, and it was a beautiful thing to watch. I didn’t know anything about his character, where he was from, if he was married, had any kids, what the tattoo on his neck meant or why he buttoned the top button of his shirt. Nothing. And he wasn’t interested in telling me. He was too busy being a cop. But by the movie’s end, I knew him. Totally. Completely.

And he was never interested in helping me, as an audience member, understand him, or like him, or sympathize with him. He was only interested in doing his job. It’s always thrilling to watch a living, breathing human being on the screen. That’s Jake. He takes you with him on this journey.

Doesn’t ask you to come along, doesn’t even know you’re there, because he’s too busy being a cop doing his job. It’s the case of a lifetime for this guy and he’s working it alone. No other cops to talk about it with. It’s internalized, lived, and I could watch all day. Simply a great performance.

(Jenkins’ credits include “Six Feet Under” and “A.C.O.D.” He earned an Oscar nomination for his role in “The Visitor.”)

Will Forte is a true artist. He is also an anomaly. Not only is he a genius-level comedian but in “Nebraska” he’s proven himself an equally talented actor capable of masterful work in drama. His heartfelt portrayal of David is the film’s center — and ironically, Will isn’t the guy playing it for laughs, he’s the film’s straight guy. It’s an inspired piece of casting.

In addition to being a damn good actor, Will is the most genuinely kind man. Even though he suggested that I date his mother. Even though when I was living with him I used to wake to the sound of his breathing above me and if I’d ever had the courage to open my eyes, I’m sure I could have proven in court that he’s the reason I now have a twitchy eye. Even though he’s the most original and disciplined comedian working today — and now a dramatic actor, too — I should hate him. But I still love him like a brother. Because he does what few do. He gives and cares for his audience, his friends and his family like it’s his last day on Earth. He’s the real deal. I even miss him breathing on me. Sometimes.

(Kilmer appeared in Forte’s film “MacGruber”; other films include “Tombstone” and “Heat.”)

Racing along through the supersonic, irresistibly stylish, adrenaline-fueled world of Ron Howard’s “Rush” with Chris Hemsworth’s supersonic, irresistibly louche, coke-fueled Formula One stoner/rock star James Hunt, we crash headlong into Daniel Bruhl’s Niki Lauda. A relentlessly unglamorous, no-fun pragmatist, Lauda was a technocrat driven by an almost clinical obsession with winning. Being liked was clearly not one of his priorities, and that understanding lies at the heart of the strange alchemy of Bruhl’s portrayal of the legendary Austrian driver. In a performance that might be described as triumphantly unsentimental, Bruhl presents Lauda as an anal, ferret-faced buzzkill-in-a-turtleneck with an aggressive (prosthetic) overbite and a bizarre, almost exhibitionistic appreciation of the fact that the bright, gleaming chip on his shoulder is his very best friend. Constantly presented with opportunities to subtly, even forgivably, curry our favor by telegraphing the torment of poor Niki’s inner child, Bruhl steadfastly refuses at every turn. At one point as he was anonymously sulking and pouting his way through the delightful drive-through-the-countryside-with-his-wife-to-be scene, I literally almost yelled at the screen, “Tell her you’re Niki F----g Lauda for God’s sake!” But Bruhl couldn’t have cared less. Content to let his giddy Italian hitchhikers spill the beans, he hits the gas and drives away with the movie.

(Platt’s pics include “Love & Other Drugs” and “Ginger & Rosa.”)

People love her in this movie. It’s one of the ways her sheer likability serves her best. We all root for her to survive and to survive the unthinkable. Marooned in space. Alone.

There is tremendous subtlety in her performance. She doesn’t play the full-on anxiety that many actors might have chosen; she goes, instead, for a surface calm that she maintains at all costs. This keeps her semi-sane. The full-on anxiety is borne by the audience.

Clooney floating off early sucks no energy from the screen. We are with her on her journey, willing her to return. And her journey is physical as well as emotional. Her clumsy clambering about the space station in the beginning morphs into confident athleticism. She becomes a space monkey. Learning to navigate in space, she masters it in life and we are finally free to sit back in our seats. She has kept us on the edge of them for 90 minutes, most of that singlehandedly. It is a fiercely honest performance, restrained and powerfully effective. She is alive every minute.

And her legs are second to none.

(Bergen won five Emmys and was nominated for an Oscar.)

The ability to just be open, vulnerable, human, raw and exposed … to me, is what a great actor can do. And to do this, you need to be that. No phoniness or posturing — just someone who has the courage to be themselves and nothing that’s not. Chris Cooper is this.

And, he shares that with us. He puts it in every character he plays. He makes them human. He makes them real.

He does it quietly, with subtlety and a healthy level of indifference — he has a trust that we’re watching.

Once again, and appropriately, this giver arrives with the holidays. The fourth-quarter treat Chris delivers to us is a master-class performance in “August: Osage County.” His gift always comes wrapped in a different way, but each time we know that waiting inside is a perfect present for every one of us because he is brave enough to show that he is a part of every one of us.

That takes a mountain of talent, but most of all, it takes the best parts of a human being.

It’s what we love most about watching Chris do what he does — he makes us feel proud to just be us.

(Bateman is the star of “Arrested Development.”)

Chiwetel Ejiofor’s performance as Solomon Northup has an extraordinary emotional transparency. Ejiofor takes us on a journey where every blow he receives – physical, mental, emotional – reverberates and echoes through him with unsettling honesty. We believe that Ejiofor truly and profoundly experiences Northup’s suffering.

Yet he retains a monumental dignity. There is a beautiful simplicity in Ejiofor’s portrayal — no attempt at “big” moments of suffering or collapse for cathartic effect. But the big soul of Northup is always present because I believe Ejiofor himself carries such generosity of spirit as an actor. It is this that permeates his performance as Northup and indeed the whole film.

It is a delicate, clear, fully embraced inhabitation of a role. Nothing ingratiating. Nothing self-pitying. We love Solomon and it is unbearable to watch him suffer. We are helpless. But his interior resilience is always there. Ejiofor has a purity and emotional intelligence that culminates in a final scene that seems impossible in its grief and rawness, but you see it, it is real and unforgettable.

(Fiennes is a two-time Oscar nominee.)

If Bruce Dern had never made a single film or knew nothing about “acting,” his work in “Nebraska” would have been the miraculous discovery of actual human decency and guilelessness.

But for an actor as seasoned as Mr. Dern, the purity and simplicity of his performance are all the more a lesson for students of the art.

What a gift Alexander Payne gives in letting us bask in Woody’s stultifying call to purpose and acknowledgement of one life’s span; at last groping the bell, to ring it, if only once.

Woody refuses to apologize or explain or alter his course while enduring others’ heaping-on of a lifetime of shrugged-off doubts and ghosts.

His plight is a piercing arrow of hope itself. In one scene, standing in the abandoned wreck of his childhood home, by just daring to hover there, he lets us tumble and feel it all, and it’s like having vertigo. A breaking open, by refusing to break. He broke my heart … open.

(Lane was nominated for toplining 2002’s “Unfaithful.”)

There are artists that through a constant and engaged relationship with their work refine the more subtle and difficult parts of what they do when youthful passion or charm alone can no longer carry an actor through. Such an artist is Ethan Hawke, and his performance in “Before Midnight” as Jesse Wallace is in many ways a quietly grand manifestation of a long and thorough engagement with the art of acting. This performance is a masterwork in seamless moment-to-moment acting. The kind of performance that can be missed because of its quietude and great workmanship, and because it isn’t what people wrongly and simplistically assume to be the only kind of “Great.” This is the gift of watching an artist mature in his or her craft. The fact that Ethan shares a writing credit with Julie Delpy (whose performance is equally beautiful and rare) also sheds a good deal of light on how deeply he understands this material, and how this deep understanding reflects and demonstrates how a man ages within his art form. He is opening himself up to us in a very honest and profound way. What Wallace is struggling with as a man who remains engaged with his life and art is what Ethan seems to be struggling with. What we are lucky to witness is the rare and perfect combination of a life and a character merging. It is him but it is not him. That seamlessness is the holy grail of acting. It is deeply honest and personal, incredibly brave in its humanity and simplicity and therefore very affecting. It is really something to see and I hope he and this movie get the attention they deserve when it comes to the yearly procession of award considerations.

(Ruffalo earned an Oscar nom for “The Kids Are All Right.”)

As Marie in Asghar Farhadi’s “The Past,” Berenice Bejo has a daunting task. She plays a woman in an increasingly grim dilemma, which is largely of her own making. Yet somehow, in her passionate eyes, we see glimpses of Marie’s hope for, and even belief in, a loving future for herself and her family. Such are Berenice’s gifts that her performance remains unadorned, yet deeply layered. So the film’s increasingly tragic revelations feel at once inevitable and utterly surprising. Berenice’s taut yet unstrained simplicity anchors Farhadi’s film and serves as the gravitational center for her fellow actors. As always, Ms. Bejo’s luminous face wordlessly expresses the depths of emotion that the filmmaker wishes us to know.

(Woodard was nommed for 1983’s “Cross Creek.”)

Julie Delpy is the creme de la creme of French actors who appear in mostly English-dialogue movies. If you need an actress who can speak English 75% of the time in your film, Julie is one of the best inthe world. As an actress, she disappears into every performance, weird French accent aside. From her scintillating performance as Head Coach Nick Saban in “The Blind Side” to the psychological complexity she brought to her role as the black maid Minny in the “The Help,” Julie has continued to confound our expectations.

She throws caution to the wind when selecting her roles. Like a chameleon, she sank her teeth into the challenging role of Celine, a French woman dating an American in “Before Sunrise,” then shiftedgears and played Celine, a French woman in love with an American in “Before Sunset,” before finally taking the ultimate risk of her career playing Celine, a woman falling out of love with an American in“Before Midnight.” She’s like the Detective Munch of “Before” movies.

Incidentally, I played her love interest in “Two Days in New York” – and let me tell you, it seemed like four. There were as many fireworks off the screen as there were on. And as a result, we produced a movie and a son. The planning that went into our immediate annulment put Prince William’s wedding to shame. I shouldn’t reveal Julie’s trade secrets here, but she was convinced that getting married for real — a la De Niro in “Raging Bull” putting on 60 pounds — would lend authenticity to our performances. I had no idea she had outstanding tax liens when I agreed to file a joint return with her.

But let me now address her latest performance. First off, her acting is peerless. I mean, Julie is great in English, but who knows how much better she is when she occasionally shifts to French. Only she does. And people who speak French. I’m guessing she’s tres good in all her scenes.

Second, her stamina is surreal. I mean, those long takes with no cutting — you actually have to know how to act to be in those kinds of scenes. She has a take so long in a car, the car runs out of gas. The nonstop action of the film rivals “My Dinner With Andre” — but Julie ups the ante by doing a lot of walking.

Third, it is very stressful for an actress to have to work under trying conditions. Yet Julie is able to endure a tough shoot by the seaside of Greece in the summer. A true pro, she manages to ignore the distracting beautiful Greek backdrop and stay focused. And we learn so many things from her performance — like Greece is where the Starbucks sign is from. Her performance is raw. Her emotions are exposed. It’s like watching a diagram of the human nervous system. It doesn’t feel like a performance. It feels like we’re eavesdropping on a real conversation between an actual couple. In fact, her performance is so convincing, it made me never want to be in a relationship again. Her acting is so great, I won’t even bring up that she didn’t write a scene for me to kiss her naked breasts in our movie. But here, Ethan Hawke gets to go to town. I get it, I’m black. Yet the bravery of her doing a topless scene for 15 minutes — made me coin the word: “stopless.” Julie Delpy is a stopless performer. Julie, “vous ordonnez,” something-something in French.

The End. (Note: “vous ordonnez” means “you rule”)

(Rock is a four-time Emmy Award winner.)

Adele is one of those rare actors who is a magician of sorts. That is to say she is a master of subtlety. How can she seem to be doing very little, yet tell you everything she is feeling? You spend your time trying to figure out how she does it.

In the early scenes of the film, she didn’t have to say a word, but I could feel her shame. I could feel the burning pain of the secret she was burying. She is so utterly watchable and human, I was with her character from the very beginning.

In many scenes, she is harmonizing emotions. Playing mature yet vulnerable, strong yet fragile, all at once. Another sign of a master actor. I’ve heard that she wasn’t always comfortable on set. If so, that is a true testament to her performance. Especially with the extremely explicit sex scenes, which never once felt forced. She attacked those with amazing courage and complete abandon. The film rides on her shoulders and it simply would not have worked without a performance like the one she gave.

As an actor, it was very inspiring to watch and I eagerly look forward to seeing the next rabbit she pulls out of her hat.

After seeing his debut as Muse, the steely eyed leader of Somali pirates who hijack the Maersk Alabama, you’ll remember his face and want to know his name. We first meet a seemingly meek Muse when he is chosen to be a pirate gang member from a long line of poor but eager villagers.

However, it is the next scene wherein Muse overthrows his gang boss with one quietly lethal act that solidifies his position as the gang’s new leader, and announces Abdi’s formidable screen presence.

Abdi’s chilling portrayal of Abdiwali Abdiqadir Muse is wrought with complexities: volatile and vicious, yet thoughtful and somehow sympathetic. It’s not easy for seasoned vets to hold their own in scenes opposite the ever-brilliant Tom Hanks, but Abdi, a newcomer, does so and effectively. Suffice it to say that all actors hope for the opportunity to play in the big leagues. With this performance, not only does Abdi take the ball and run with it, he spikes it in the end zone.

(Spencer won the Academy Award for for 2011’s “The Help.”)

If there was ever a friend I can only smile when I think of — even when it is through tears — it is James.

My friendship with him was invisible. The sparest amount of notes or tangible signs that we shared some of our life experiences together.

The evidence is only within my heart and a handful of cards, some photographs. The same could, I realize, be said for his acting. It was invisible. Sitting down with my husband — who was also a friend of James — recently to watch “Enough Said,” one realized how skillful, masterful really James was. He so completely inhabits the part of Albert that the heartsick feeling I had at seeing James gave way to interest in the plight of Albert. Amazing.

Julia Louis-Dreyfus is transcendent in this film and it is so simple and delicate and their relationship is funny and authentic and suddenly, poof, the film was over. I felt so sad. Sitting there still.

But realized I was smiling. Because, of course, he was once again Invisible.

(Roberts starred opposite Gandolfini in “The Mexican.” She has won an Oscar and been nominated for two more.)

There is no denying that Cate Blanchett is brilliant in “Blue Jasmine.” After all, she is Cate Blanchett. But look a little deeper and you will find an equal treasure — a performance by Sally Hawkins that is equally as mesmerizing — not for its flash, but in its strength, honesty and heart-breaking simplicity. Sally is someone who disappears so seamlessly into a role that you can never imagine anyone else doing it. As Ginger, the stalwart sister to Blanchett’s Jasmine, Sally is constantly struggling for a better life. She weaves gracefully between boyfriends, husbands and lovers, all the while remaining a touchstone for her increasingly unstable sister. The scene where her new lover breaks up with her on the phone is a master class in acting. We don’t hear his words, but we know every detail from watching her expressive face. When she curtsies on meeting Alec Baldwin’s rich financier brother-in-law, it gives you a world of insight into that part in one small gesture. Poignant, poetic and always truthful — that’s our Sally.

(Serkis portrayed Gollum in “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy.)

What I admire about Michael B. Jordan’s work is that there always seem to be a subtle yet vivid emotional life in the characters he portrays. There’s a depth there, and it’s interesting to watch.

What I absolutely love about Michael’s portrayal of Oscar Grant in “Fruitvale Station” is that he manages to capture the essence of a fully rounded human being that goes beyond just being a character in a story — which is essential for telling a story like this. It’s simple, but it’s powerful. And because of this, he is relatable and you are immediately drawn to him as you observe this young kid, down on his luck, just trying to get his life together. He’s fallible in the most endearing sense. But it’s done in such a succinct way — he’s not doing too much or trying to be more than he ought to be.

Michael stays true to having a personal human experience in his performance. Which left me as an audience member, watching this journey unfold … affected, touched, and outright captivated.

(Davis is a two-time Oscar nominee for her roles in “Doubt” and “The Help.”)

If you’re very lucky as an actor, one day, a director hands you a script with a part so perfect, so right for you, that your hands are trembling when you finished reading. And if you’re even luckier, it comes at a time in your career when you’re ready. Scared to death … but ready to rise to the task of the demands and commitment the character needs.

Well, to say the least, Jared Leto was just that when he was offered to play Rayon opposite Matthew McConaughey in the intense and unflinching “Dallas Buyers Club,” directed by Jean-Marc Vallee. In lesser hands, the transsexual Rayon could have been an offensive caricature.

Instead, Jared literally “became” Rayon. His performance is heartbreaking … sincere and deep. I was mesmerized by this gentle, lost soul … Jared completely disappears behind Rayon. His physical transformation is nothing less than astonishing and complete. I found myself haunted by the movie, haunted by Rayon’s/Jared’s eyes that burnt up the screen. It is without a doubt one of the best performances I have seen this year.

(Kruger stars in the FX series “The Bridge” and appeared in the SAG-winning ensemble of “Inglourious Basterds.”)

It is hard for me to write about an actor whose work, like all great art, transcends the words one might use to describe it. Joaquin Phoenix’s performance in “Her” has to be seen, not read about.

It is even harder to write about an actor when there is no acting to be seen. Joaquin Phoenix IS. I cannot say whether he became Theodore Twombly, or whether Theodore Twombly became him. It doesn’t matter. I felt their instincts, guts, heart and soul. I felt their loneliness, joy, sorrow and love. Never has Joaquin’s smile been so beautiful and full. Never has he made me laugh so hard. Never has he been so disarming, playful, simple and true. He gave all of himself to us. And he is flying up there.

Theodore Twombly, like the film “Her” itself, is a beautiful and singular creation. Spike Jonze and Joaquin Phoenix are perfect dance partners.

To watch them search, discover and play together is a special cinematic experience. But the best thing I can say about Joaquin’s work is this: It speaks for itself. Go see it.

(Dano appears this year in “Prisoners” and “12 Years a Slave.”)

In “Spring Breakers,” James Franco puts himself out there, takes a huge risk, and succeeds wildly.

He is funny, dangerous, creepy and cute. He pops out of the screen in a movie that’s already popping out of the screen. I had a lot of fun watching him play Alien. There’s a satirical quality to the movie — at its heart, it’s a critique — and Franco knows this and his performance embodies the kind of guy whose life revolves around money, bikinis, sex, partying and nothing else. Alien is someone who loves what he does, which is being bad. James does it perfectly. He can play the Harrison Ford part and the Mickey Rourke part — often within the same performance. That’s hard to come by.

(Del Toro won a supporting actor Oscar for 2000’s “Traffic.”)

Kate, I love you. The first time I saw you was in “Heavenly Creatures.” I knew then that I would follow you forever. I felt so deeply connected because that’s what you do.

You connect us in the deepest way to all these women you portray. You embody them, personify them, and there is nothing ever self-conscious about it. And with such simplicity! Watching you in “Labor Day,” I felt scared, excited and touched deeply. I felt despair, fear, joy … and then ultimately love. Because that’s what you were going through and you made me feel it. What I feel when I watch you onscreen is that you enter into people and you move them. So thank you for the emotion, for the connection and for the love.

(Cotillard won an Oscar playing Edith Piaf in “La Vie en rose.”)

In “Dallas Buyers Club,” portraying Ron Woodroof, Matthew fearlessly breaks down previous social conventions and crosses stereotype boundaries; the physical — as we see his body wasting away until we as an audience actually fear for him — and the mental — we see the archetype of the bigoted redneck cowboy blossom (at least partially) into a more enlightened human being before our eyes.

Oddly, the partiality of his enlightenment becomes one of the chief sources of much of the comedy from the performance; he never fully abandons who he is, and is all the more believable for it. My favorite scene in the film is when Woodroof scoffs at one of his former friend’s refusal to shake his new transsexual friend Rayon’s (Jared Leto) hand when chance encountering the man in a supermarket.

McConaughey gives a shocked, patient smile, realizing how stupid and pointless his former prejudices were, beaming with understanding. That his priceless expression is followed up promptly by him putting the man in a gripping arm lock and forcing him to then shake Leto’s hand, it becomes a delightfully guilty pleasure piece of a tough man’s noble sense of justice.

(Hirsch will be seen on screens in December in “Lone Survivor.”)

Margo Martindale leads with her heart. There is nothing false or trumped up about the way she communicates. You can see it in her eyes. The way she focuses on the other characters. Margo is first and foremost a “listener.”

She holds your attention because she is totally involved in the moment. This is not an actress who tries to impress you with her craftsmanship. She’s too caught up in telling the story for that. When she speaks her lines, the words stick with force into the soul of her target.

In “August: Osage County,” Mattie Fae’s twisting, surprising story lays out as natural as a country road … no histrionics, no self-conscious flashy bits … just honest, true emotion with way more than a few laughs along the way, courtesy of one of the finest actors of our time, Margo Martindale.

(Bridges co-stars with Martindale on CBS’ “The Millers.”)

Because of Shailene Woodley, Aimee Finicky isn’t just a character in a movie — “The Spectacular Now” — to me, she’s an actual girl colored with deep human emotion. It’s hard for me to separate the character from the actress because Shailene’s performance is so vulnerable, so open and ultimately so real.

And I don’t mean real because the actors weren’t wearing make-up, and many of the scenes played in two shots without a lot of editing tricks, I mean real because I could see Aimee thinking, I could see her taking in information and processing it, I watched her listen and respond in real time. I didn’t even want to blink while watching the film for fear that I would miss a flash in her eyes, a moment of recognition or a decision being made in her head. Shailene’s Aimee was open, honest, heartbreaking and heartbroken, and I was utterly riveted every moment she was on screen.

When I saw Miles audition for “Rabbit Hole,” I was blown away! He was so deeply connected to the words. His face had so much character, it told a story. I could feel the intensity and life experience he brought to the role. Miles, I knew, was a very serious actor with a lot of heart and emotion to bring to the table. And that is exactly what he did with his wonderful and layered performance as Sutter Keely in “The Spectacular Now.”

There are many sides of Miles Teller. He is deeply soulful, but also very funny and a pretty good dancer! All of those elements were needed for the complex character of Sutter. With every nuanced look he was able to expose the sad soul beneath the class clown. He is that rare triple-threat actor that can do it all with commitment, passion and raw talent. Miles has an incredible career ahead of him. He has so much to share with us, with the world.

(Three-time nominee Kidman won an an Academy Award for her portrayal of Virginia Woolf in 2002’s “The Hours.”)

Robert Redford acts without speaking. That is some sort of magic.

Mr. Redford has given many of my favorite performances in his over-50-year career. In “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” “All the President’s Men,” “The Way We Were,” and so many others, he has entertained us while always stirring an emotion within us. He has helped shape this industry through his work and mastery, while at the same time supporting new artists. He is a film legend.

And yet, as I sat watching him play the sole character, Our Man in J.C. Chandor’s, “All Is Lost,” I forgot that this is Robert Redford. He is fully the character: a man lost at sea, willing to survive. I was struck by his physical and emotional endurance, but moreover, I was struck by his lack of dialogue. How does an actor bring us a complete character without dialogue? Mr. Redford is absolutely riveting in “All Is Lost.”

He brings us forward with his silence. Having to convey much of the story through body language, he gives himself freedom to express his emotions fully.

There’s a great immediacy in his acting. He’s not confined to the expected boundaries of cinema. He is an actor who exists only in the moment, an actor who is never self-conscious. We feel his character’s secrets, without knowing them completely. He goes straight to the feeling and his story hits you, like music. Like it has for over 50 years. That is magic.

(Chastain was nominated by the Academy for “Zero Dark Thirty” and “The Help.”)

I have known Melissa Leo since she first walked into the Actors Studio looking like a pre-Raphaelite beauty, with her delicate features and her aureole of flaming red hair.

I’ve watched her develop from that sensitive young talent into a powerfully skilled actress of enormous range.

She finds her way into the psyche of her characters and transforms herself, so that Melissa disappears and we see a new person each time, created with complexity, nuance and remarkable clarity. Melissa’s work in “Prisoners” is a perfect example of her magnificent artistry.

I’m trying to get to the bottom of why my friend, someone I know and love, put terror in me. Perhaps the answer is obvious: He plays a bad man during a time in history where a person was deemed inferior due to the color of their skin.

The inferiority was often felt through slavery, where these people would be tortured, humiliated and punished among many other atrocities. It is a terrifying truth that this happened in the past and continues to happen today in differing circumstances on our planet.

So why did Michael Fassbender terrify me so much?

I think it’s because when I watch his unflinching work in this film, I not only believe in his hatred of those he enslaves (perhaps even of himself and his own family) but I also believe that anything could happen. Many actors can portray “darkness” and there is no doubt he has done that with great skill. But with Michael’s performance in “12 Years a Slave” he does something that few actors are able to pull off — he makes us believe at all times while he is on screen that anything could happen, that we the audience are not safe to trust that our hero will prevail.

History has taught us that anything could happen to this slave, but Michael’s performance makes us understand the helplessness felt in the face of such animal irrationality in that place and time.

Unpredictable, irrational, ruled by his instincts and possibly entirely by his fears, Michael’s performance as the slave-owning Epps terrifies me. Not just because he’s good at “playing dark” but because it suggests to me that the animal within is never far away and that it will constantly be on the lookout for a society in which to nest.

(McAvoy starred in “X-Men: First Class” with Fassbender; other credits include “Atonement” and “Trance.”)

Julia Louis-Dreyfus broke my heart in “Enough Said.” There is not a false moment in the entire film. We expect her to be sharp and charming and funny, but it’s Julia’s willingness to stumble and fall and break in front of our eyes that I found extraordinary.

We watch her character, Eva, make terrible decisions and we still root for her. We see her hurt herself and James Gandolfini’s lovely character Albert, and we forgive her and hope he does, too.

She is so intensely talented that we forget the skill and effort behind the beautiful results. Julia’s artful finesse of this character is so deftly handled that her flaws are the very things that make us fall in love with her.

Julia’s outdone herself, which is no easy feat.

(McCarthy earned an Oscar nomination for “Bridesmaids” and an Emmy Award for “Mike & Molly.”)

Oscar Isaac blurs all distinctions between himself and his character, it’s like watching total fusion. Oscar indicates nothing. There is no demonstration, no bid for sympathy, no judgment by him of his character.

We get to watch a man who is struggling to survive whilst trying not to betray his ideals as a musician and as a person. We feel his fragility and long for his dreams to be fulfilled. The pathos and the humor Oscar brings to the character of an artist who is trying to “make it” and be recognized, is pitch perfect. The notes his performance hits are delicate, true, pure and filled with restraint and longing.

(And did I mention his singing? He makes it look as easy and as necessary as breathing.)

Nowhere in the film do we see the actor at work; we just see a living human being. He has this wonderful, natural burning intensity. A bottomless well of inner life, real vulnerability and strength. The intelligence and depth of feeling he shows us is stunning.

There are no pyrotechnics, just the raw gentle gnawing truth of his character’s bid for freedom.

So honest and bold and unprotected without any coercion or manipulation of his audience.

This is truly one of the great screen performances.

(Weisz won an Oscar for her role in “The Constant Gardener.”)

Christian Bale’s portrayal of the complicated Russell Baze in Scott Cooper’s “Out of the Furnace” is outstanding.

Christian always delivers, but I found this performance especially engaging.

What I love about his work is that he consistently creates characters that are real.

He gives the audience the sense they are a fly on the wall, watching something that isn’t meant to be seen.

Scott Cooper’s wonderful original screenplay and direction have given us the opportunity to see remarkable performances by the entire cast, and Christian, leading the pack, draws us so beautifully into this story with his powerful, subtle performance, that this movie is a one-of-a-kind jewel. It’s the best movie I’ve seen in a long time.

(Bridges, who has six noms, won an Oscar for “Crazy Heart.”)

At the end of “Captain Phillips,” Tom Hanks delivers a scene with such veracity that we all are aware we are watching a character in the throes of a specific and profound emotional shock. Yet, only a very few viewers will ever have ever seen a human being in such an extreme state. Tom makes us recognize a potential inside us all. In these few moments of screen time, Tom transcends traditional acting, and goes far beyond what actors are normally asked to do in movies: He brings a movie to a climax after the story is over solely by an emotional catharsis of his character.

Years ago — more than 15 — when Tom and I were passing thoughts back and forth about acting, he said, “After doing a few movies I thought, wait, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to think seriously about it.” How he achieves his continuing high level of performance, I don’t know, but the best art remains mysterious.

So much of Tom’s performance in “Captain Phillips” is between the lines, in the silences. His presence is felt in the film even when he is off screen or while the camera is on the back of his head. He references his family with a few brush stroke lines between him and Catherine Keener and an anxious letter scribbled in dangerous circumstances while the audience squirms – no schmaltz added as he tells the crew members what his kids are up to.

Far from hitting his marks and saying the lines, he informs the character and the audience simultaneously, often wordlessly. In the final moments of Capt. Phillips, one of the pirates says, “We’ll be home soon.” In a cut of less than two seconds, Tom sighs and blinks, saying nothing. The message is clear: You won’t be going home.

(Martin received an Honorary Oscar on Nov. 16.)

There is something deeply cathartic about the journey Emma Thompson takes us through in “Saving Mr. Banks.” From the first time we see her as P.L. Travers, each berating glance, each caustic remark is delivered with such conviction and adept comic timing that we laugh. We celebrate in her abrasiveness as the very core of political incorrectness. It is a paradoxically warm and hilarious performance.

And then the ghosts of her past begin to claw their way to the surface, she becomes revealed, unraveling in her own turbulent emotional life. We experience a woman who has used intellect and imagination to bury the pains of her youth within the pages of her Mary Poppins books.

The catharsis in this performance rises from the depths of P.L.’s profound sadness. Finally revealed. Felt. A moment of pure emotional reckoning toward the end of the film is so honest in its sense of loss and longing, so brutal in crossing that bridge from the past to the present, that it will stay with me forever. It feels not so much a performance about healing the past as finally allowing oneself to feel it. Maybe that’s what healing is … there is such sublime magic in Emma’s work here.

It’s been said about Hugh Jackman that there is nothing he can’t do, but until his wrenching performance in “Prisoners,” I don’t think people knew just how true that statement was. I was privileged to have Hugh play my father in “Les Miserables” and I know he drew on his own experience as a loving and protective parent for that film.

So I cannot even imagine how difficult it must have been for him to portray a father faced with the worst thing imaginable: a missing child. The raw emotion and desperation that he brought to his performance are so visceral and real.

He shows us the soul of this character and, in doing so, makes us ask ourselves what we would do in his place. That connection to the audience makes his already compelling performance all the more powerful.

(Seyfried was seen this year in the films “Lovelace” and “The Big Wedding.”)

Every now and then when watching a film, an actor appears who causes you to gasp at the ease of their artistry that is revealed throughout the film. You find yourself sitting straight up in your seat because so much that is passed off as acting is just accepted. When you watch “12 Years a Slave,” you are seeing some of the best art has to offer. Some actors you will know, and some you won’t and one, Lupita Nyong’o, makes you want to go grab folks off the street and say, “Watch this young woman!”

She is fresh from Yale and this is her first film gig. In her art, the gamut is run. She finds so much in this script, and somehow in her youth and newness you see the invisible dust of ages and strength beyond her age and reason. She does what we are supposed to do as actors: Take you, then return you, and when finished, make you feel like we have held off time. And I would be remiss if I didn’t also tell you that she is achingly beautiful outside of character, which I think will be new for Hollywood. This young lady is one of a kind.

(Goldberg won the supporting actress Oscar for ’90s “Ghost.”)

Cate has an incredible talent. She is a supremely intelligent person and that, mixed with excellent instincts and deep sensitivity to the parts she plays, makes her a very rare actor: someone who can shift and adapt to embody characters of such a broad spectrum. She can be sophisticated or base, in control or pathetic, low-status or high, villainous or heroic, comic or tragic. No challenge seems to evade her. Her work in “Blue Jasmine” puts the full gamut on show, and reminds us again why she holds such a top shelf place in the minds of audiences and industry people alike. Her performances are bold, her characters detailed and well observed, and her presence onstage and onscreen is so honest.

And while it all seems effortless, I was excited to see when I worked with Cate on “A Streetcar Named Desire,” she is not one to rest on her heels. Cate was always the first actor onstage before every performance, preparing every night. She is a workhorse. Always crafting, honing her skill and bettering herself.

(Edgerton’s film credits include “The Great Gatsby.”)

There is a dignity and grace to Idris Elba’s performance as Nelson Mandela that permeates every frame of Justin Chadwick’s “Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom,” whether Elba is present onscreen or not. Beautifully supported by Naomie Harris, and held in the stunning cinematography of Lol Crawley’s South Africa, we absorb this remarkable story and the rich talent of this striking actor in waves of diverse and modulated intensity. We experience Elba’s Mandela inhaling life, from early adulthood to maturity. We watch him learn and react. We witness the evolution of a mind and heart molded by decades of challenge, observation and endurance. But it is the look behind Idris’ eyes, where connections are forming, underneath the language and his character’s charismatic persona, that I found most powerful and arresting. It takes discipline and patience as an actor to allow such space to exist in a performance, and extreme skill to do it with such warmth and strength.

(Linney has received three Oscar nominations for her work.)

Jake Gyllenhaal in “Prisoners” was simply a cop doing his job, and it was a beautiful thing to watch. I didn’t know anything about his character, where he was from, if he was married, had any kids, what the tattoo on his neck meant or why he buttoned the top button of his shirt. Nothing. And he wasn’t interested in telling me. He was too busy being a cop. But by the movie’s end, I knew him. Totally. Completely.

And he was never interested in helping me, as an audience member, understand him, or like him, or sympathize with him. He was only interested in doing his job. It’s always thrilling to watch a living, breathing human being on the screen. That’s Jake. He takes you with him on this journey.

Doesn’t ask you to come along, doesn’t even know you’re there, because he’s too busy being a cop doing his job. It’s the case of a lifetime for this guy and he’s working it alone. No other cops to talk about it with. It’s internalized, lived, and I could watch all day. Simply a great performance.

(Jenkins’ credits include “Six Feet Under” and “A.C.O.D.” He earned an Oscar nomination for his role in “The Visitor.”)

Will Forte is a true artist. He is also an anomaly. Not only is he a genius-level comedian but in “Nebraska” he’s proven himself an equally talented actor capable of masterful work in drama. His heartfelt portrayal of David is the film’s center — and ironically, Will isn’t the guy playing it for laughs, he’s the film’s straight guy. It’s an inspired piece of casting.

In addition to being a damn good actor, Will is the most genuinely kind man. Even though he suggested that I date his mother. Even though when I was living with him I used to wake to the sound of his breathing above me and if I’d ever had the courage to open my eyes, I’m sure I could have proven in court that he’s the reason I now have a twitchy eye. Even though he’s the most original and disciplined comedian working today — and now a dramatic actor, too — I should hate him. But I still love him like a brother. Because he does what few do. He gives and cares for his audience, his friends and his family like it’s his last day on Earth. He’s the real deal. I even miss him breathing on me. Sometimes.

(Kilmer appeared in Forte’s film “MacGruber”; other films include “Tombstone” and “Heat.”)

Racing along through the supersonic, irresistibly stylish, adrenaline-fueled world of Ron Howard’s “Rush” with Chris Hemsworth’s supersonic, irresistibly louche, coke-fueled Formula One stoner/rock star James Hunt, we crash headlong into Daniel Bruhl’s Niki Lauda. A relentlessly unglamorous, no-fun pragmatist, Lauda was a technocrat driven by an almost clinical obsession with winning. Being liked was clearly not one of his priorities, and that understanding lies at the heart of the strange alchemy of Bruhl’s portrayal of the legendary Austrian driver. In a performance that might be described as triumphantly unsentimental, Bruhl presents Lauda as an anal, ferret-faced buzzkill-in-a-turtleneck with an aggressive (prosthetic) overbite and a bizarre, almost exhibitionistic appreciation of the fact that the bright, gleaming chip on his shoulder is his very best friend. Constantly presented with opportunities to subtly, even forgivably, curry our favor by telegraphing the torment of poor Niki’s inner child, Bruhl steadfastly refuses at every turn. At one point as he was anonymously sulking and pouting his way through the delightful drive-through-the-countryside-with-his-wife-to-be scene, I literally almost yelled at the screen, “Tell her you’re Niki F----g Lauda for God’s sake!” But Bruhl couldn’t have cared less. Content to let his giddy Italian hitchhikers spill the beans, he hits the gas and drives away with the movie.

(Platt’s pics include “Love & Other Drugs” and “Ginger & Rosa.”)

People love her in this movie. It’s one of the ways her sheer likability serves her best. We all root for her to survive and to survive the unthinkable. Marooned in space. Alone.

There is tremendous subtlety in her performance. She doesn’t play the full-on anxiety that many actors might have chosen; she goes, instead, for a surface calm that she maintains at all costs. This keeps her semi-sane. The full-on anxiety is borne by the audience.

Clooney floating off early sucks no energy from the screen. We are with her on her journey, willing her to return. And her journey is physical as well as emotional. Her clumsy clambering about the space station in the beginning morphs into confident athleticism. She becomes a space monkey. Learning to navigate in space, she masters it in life and we are finally free to sit back in our seats. She has kept us on the edge of them for 90 minutes, most of that singlehandedly. It is a fiercely honest performance, restrained and powerfully effective. She is alive every minute.

And her legs are second to none.

(Bergen won five Emmys and was nominated for an Oscar.)

The ability to just be open, vulnerable, human, raw and exposed … to me, is what a great actor can do. And to do this, you need to be that. No phoniness or posturing — just someone who has the courage to be themselves and nothing that’s not. Chris Cooper is this.

And, he shares that with us. He puts it in every character he plays. He makes them human. He makes them real.

He does it quietly, with subtlety and a healthy level of indifference — he has a trust that we’re watching.

Once again, and appropriately, this giver arrives with the holidays. The fourth-quarter treat Chris delivers to us is a master-class performance in “August: Osage County.” His gift always comes wrapped in a different way, but each time we know that waiting inside is a perfect present for every one of us because he is brave enough to show that he is a part of every one of us.

That takes a mountain of talent, but most of all, it takes the best parts of a human being.

It’s what we love most about watching Chris do what he does — he makes us feel proud to just be us.

(Bateman is the star of “Arrested Development.”)

Chiwetel Ejiofor’s performance as Solomon Northup has an extraordinary emotional transparency. Ejiofor takes us on a journey where every blow he receives – physical, mental, emotional – reverberates and echoes through him with unsettling honesty. We believe that Ejiofor truly and profoundly experiences Northup’s suffering.

Yet he retains a monumental dignity. There is a beautiful simplicity in Ejiofor’s portrayal — no attempt at “big” moments of suffering or collapse for cathartic effect. But the big soul of Northup is always present because I believe Ejiofor himself carries such generosity of spirit as an actor. It is this that permeates his performance as Northup and indeed the whole film.

It is a delicate, clear, fully embraced inhabitation of a role. Nothing ingratiating. Nothing self-pitying. We love Solomon and it is unbearable to watch him suffer. We are helpless. But his interior resilience is always there. Ejiofor has a purity and emotional intelligence that culminates in a final scene that seems impossible in its grief and rawness, but you see it, it is real and unforgettable.

(Fiennes is a two-time Oscar nominee.)

If Bruce Dern had never made a single film or knew nothing about “acting,” his work in “Nebraska” would have been the miraculous discovery of actual human decency and guilelessness.

But for an actor as seasoned as Mr. Dern, the purity and simplicity of his performance are all the more a lesson for students of the art.

What a gift Alexander Payne gives in letting us bask in Woody’s stultifying call to purpose and acknowledgement of one life’s span; at last groping the bell, to ring it, if only once.

Woody refuses to apologize or explain or alter his course while enduring others’ heaping-on of a lifetime of shrugged-off doubts and ghosts.

His plight is a piercing arrow of hope itself. In one scene, standing in the abandoned wreck of his childhood home, by just daring to hover there, he lets us tumble and feel it all, and it’s like having vertigo. A breaking open, by refusing to break. He broke my heart … open.

(Lane was nominated for toplining 2002’s “Unfaithful.”)

There are artists that through a constant and engaged relationship with their work refine the more subtle and difficult parts of what they do when youthful passion or charm alone can no longer carry an actor through. Such an artist is Ethan Hawke, and his performance in “Before Midnight” as Jesse Wallace is in many ways a quietly grand manifestation of a long and thorough engagement with the art of acting. This performance is a masterwork in seamless moment-to-moment acting. The kind of performance that can be missed because of its quietude and great workmanship, and because it isn’t what people wrongly and simplistically assume to be the only kind of “Great.” This is the gift of watching an artist mature in his or her craft. The fact that Ethan shares a writing credit with Julie Delpy (whose performance is equally beautiful and rare) also sheds a good deal of light on how deeply he understands this material, and how this deep understanding reflects and demonstrates how a man ages within his art form. He is opening himself up to us in a very honest and profound way. What Wallace is struggling with as a man who remains engaged with his life and art is what Ethan seems to be struggling with. What we are lucky to witness is the rare and perfect combination of a life and a character merging. It is him but it is not him. That seamlessness is the holy grail of acting. It is deeply honest and personal, incredibly brave in its humanity and simplicity and therefore very affecting. It is really something to see and I hope he and this movie get the attention they deserve when it comes to the yearly procession of award considerations.

(Ruffalo earned an Oscar nom for “The Kids Are All Right.”)

As Marie in Asghar Farhadi’s “The Past,” Berenice Bejo has a daunting task. She plays a woman in an increasingly grim dilemma, which is largely of her own making. Yet somehow, in her passionate eyes, we see glimpses of Marie’s hope for, and even belief in, a loving future for herself and her family. Such are Berenice’s gifts that her performance remains unadorned, yet deeply layered. So the film’s increasingly tragic revelations feel at once inevitable and utterly surprising. Berenice’s taut yet unstrained simplicity anchors Farhadi’s film and serves as the gravitational center for her fellow actors. As always, Ms. Bejo’s luminous face wordlessly expresses the depths of emotion that the filmmaker wishes us to know.

(Woodard was nommed for 1983’s “Cross Creek.”)

Julie Delpy is the creme de la creme of French actors who appear in mostly English-dialogue movies. If you need an actress who can speak English 75% of the time in your film, Julie is one of the best inthe world. As an actress, she disappears into every performance, weird French accent aside. From her scintillating performance as Head Coach Nick Saban in “The Blind Side” to the psychological complexity she brought to her role as the black maid Minny in the “The Help,” Julie has continued to confound our expectations.

She throws caution to the wind when selecting her roles. Like a chameleon, she sank her teeth into the challenging role of Celine, a French woman dating an American in “Before Sunrise,” then shiftedgears and played Celine, a French woman in love with an American in “Before Sunset,” before finally taking the ultimate risk of her career playing Celine, a woman falling out of love with an American in“Before Midnight.” She’s like the Detective Munch of “Before” movies.

Incidentally, I played her love interest in “Two Days in New York” – and let me tell you, it seemed like four. There were as many fireworks off the screen as there were on. And as a result, we produced a movie and a son. The planning that went into our immediate annulment put Prince William’s wedding to shame. I shouldn’t reveal Julie’s trade secrets here, but she was convinced that getting married for real — a la De Niro in “Raging Bull” putting on 60 pounds — would lend authenticity to our performances. I had no idea she had outstanding tax liens when I agreed to file a joint return with her.

But let me now address her latest performance. First off, her acting is peerless. I mean, Julie is great in English, but who knows how much better she is when she occasionally shifts to French. Only she does. And people who speak French. I’m guessing she’s tres good in all her scenes.

Second, her stamina is surreal. I mean, those long takes with no cutting — you actually have to know how to act to be in those kinds of scenes. She has a take so long in a car, the car runs out of gas. The nonstop action of the film rivals “My Dinner With Andre” — but Julie ups the ante by doing a lot of walking.

Third, it is very stressful for an actress to have to work under trying conditions. Yet Julie is able to endure a tough shoot by the seaside of Greece in the summer. A true pro, she manages to ignore the distracting beautiful Greek backdrop and stay focused. And we learn so many things from her performance — like Greece is where the Starbucks sign is from. Her performance is raw. Her emotions are exposed. It’s like watching a diagram of the human nervous system. It doesn’t feel like a performance. It feels like we’re eavesdropping on a real conversation between an actual couple. In fact, her performance is so convincing, it made me never want to be in a relationship again. Her acting is so great, I won’t even bring up that she didn’t write a scene for me to kiss her naked breasts in our movie. But here, Ethan Hawke gets to go to town. I get it, I’m black. Yet the bravery of her doing a topless scene for 15 minutes — made me coin the word: “stopless.” Julie Delpy is a stopless performer. Julie, “vous ordonnez,” something-something in French.

The End. (Note: “vous ordonnez” means “you rule”)

(Rock is a four-time Emmy Award winner.)

Adele is one of those rare actors who is a magician of sorts. That is to say she is a master of subtlety. How can she seem to be doing very little, yet tell you everything she is feeling? You spend your time trying to figure out how she does it.

In the early scenes of the film, she didn’t have to say a word, but I could feel her shame. I could feel the burning pain of the secret she was burying. She is so utterly watchable and human, I was with her character from the very beginning.

In many scenes, she is harmonizing emotions. Playing mature yet vulnerable, strong yet fragile, all at once. Another sign of a master actor. I’ve heard that she wasn’t always comfortable on set. If so, that is a true testament to her performance. Especially with the extremely explicit sex scenes, which never once felt forced. She attacked those with amazing courage and complete abandon. The film rides on her shoulders and it simply would not have worked without a performance like the one she gave.

As an actor, it was very inspiring to watch and I eagerly look forward to seeing the next rabbit she pulls out of her hat.

After seeing his debut as Muse, the steely eyed leader of Somali pirates who hijack the Maersk Alabama, you’ll remember his face and want to know his name. We first meet a seemingly meek Muse when he is chosen to be a pirate gang member from a long line of poor but eager villagers.

However, it is the next scene wherein Muse overthrows his gang boss with one quietly lethal act that solidifies his position as the gang’s new leader, and announces Abdi’s formidable screen presence.

Abdi’s chilling portrayal of Abdiwali Abdiqadir Muse is wrought with complexities: volatile and vicious, yet thoughtful and somehow sympathetic. It’s not easy for seasoned vets to hold their own in scenes opposite the ever-brilliant Tom Hanks, but Abdi, a newcomer, does so and effectively. Suffice it to say that all actors hope for the opportunity to play in the big leagues. With this performance, not only does Abdi take the ball and run with it, he spikes it in the end zone.

(Spencer won the Academy Award for for 2011’s “The Help.”)

If there was ever a friend I can only smile when I think of — even when it is through tears — it is James.

My friendship with him was invisible. The sparest amount of notes or tangible signs that we shared some of our life experiences together.

The evidence is only within my heart and a handful of cards, some photographs. The same could, I realize, be said for his acting. It was invisible. Sitting down with my husband — who was also a friend of James — recently to watch “Enough Said,” one realized how skillful, masterful really James was. He so completely inhabits the part of Albert that the heartsick feeling I had at seeing James gave way to interest in the plight of Albert. Amazing.

Julia Louis-Dreyfus is transcendent in this film and it is so simple and delicate and their relationship is funny and authentic and suddenly, poof, the film was over. I felt so sad. Sitting there still.

But realized I was smiling. Because, of course, he was once again Invisible.

(Roberts starred opposite Gandolfini in “The Mexican.” She has won an Oscar and been nominated for two more.)

There is no denying that Cate Blanchett is brilliant in “Blue Jasmine.” After all, she is Cate Blanchett. But look a little deeper and you will find an equal treasure — a performance by Sally Hawkins that is equally as mesmerizing — not for its flash, but in its strength, honesty and heart-breaking simplicity. Sally is someone who disappears so seamlessly into a role that you can never imagine anyone else doing it. As Ginger, the stalwart sister to Blanchett’s Jasmine, Sally is constantly struggling for a better life. She weaves gracefully between boyfriends, husbands and lovers, all the while remaining a touchstone for her increasingly unstable sister. The scene where her new lover breaks up with her on the phone is a master class in acting. We don’t hear his words, but we know every detail from watching her expressive face. When she curtsies on meeting Alec Baldwin’s rich financier brother-in-law, it gives you a world of insight into that part in one small gesture. Poignant, poetic and always truthful — that’s our Sally.

(Serkis portrayed Gollum in “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy.)

What I admire about Michael B. Jordan’s work is that there always seem to be a subtle yet vivid emotional life in the characters he portrays. There’s a depth there, and it’s interesting to watch.

What I absolutely love about Michael’s portrayal of Oscar Grant in “Fruitvale Station” is that he manages to capture the essence of a fully rounded human being that goes beyond just being a character in a story — which is essential for telling a story like this. It’s simple, but it’s powerful. And because of this, he is relatable and you are immediately drawn to him as you observe this young kid, down on his luck, just trying to get his life together. He’s fallible in the most endearing sense. But it’s done in such a succinct way — he’s not doing too much or trying to be more than he ought to be.

Michael stays true to having a personal human experience in his performance. Which left me as an audience member, watching this journey unfold … affected, touched, and outright captivated.

(Davis is a two-time Oscar nominee for her roles in “Doubt” and “The Help.”)

If you’re very lucky as an actor, one day, a director hands you a script with a part so perfect, so right for you, that your hands are trembling when you finished reading. And if you’re even luckier, it comes at a time in your career when you’re ready. Scared to death … but ready to rise to the task of the demands and commitment the character needs.

Well, to say the least, Jared Leto was just that when he was offered to play Rayon opposite Matthew McConaughey in the intense and unflinching “Dallas Buyers Club,” directed by Jean-Marc Vallee. In lesser hands, the transsexual Rayon could have been an offensive caricature.

Instead, Jared literally “became” Rayon. His performance is heartbreaking … sincere and deep. I was mesmerized by this gentle, lost soul … Jared completely disappears behind Rayon. His physical transformation is nothing less than astonishing and complete. I found myself haunted by the movie, haunted by Rayon’s/Jared’s eyes that burnt up the screen. It is without a doubt one of the best performances I have seen this year.

(Kruger stars in the FX series “The Bridge” and appeared in the SAG-winning ensemble of “Inglourious Basterds.”)

It is hard for me to write about an actor whose work, like all great art, transcends the words one might use to describe it. Joaquin Phoenix’s performance in “Her” has to be seen, not read about.

It is even harder to write about an actor when there is no acting to be seen. Joaquin Phoenix IS. I cannot say whether he became Theodore Twombly, or whether Theodore Twombly became him. It doesn’t matter. I felt their instincts, guts, heart and soul. I felt their loneliness, joy, sorrow and love. Never has Joaquin’s smile been so beautiful and full. Never has he made me laugh so hard. Never has he been so disarming, playful, simple and true. He gave all of himself to us. And he is flying up there.

Theodore Twombly, like the film “Her” itself, is a beautiful and singular creation. Spike Jonze and Joaquin Phoenix are perfect dance partners.

To watch them search, discover and play together is a special cinematic experience. But the best thing I can say about Joaquin’s work is this: It speaks for itself. Go see it.

(Dano appears this year in “Prisoners” and “12 Years a Slave.”)

In “Spring Breakers,” James Franco puts himself out there, takes a huge risk, and succeeds wildly.

He is funny, dangerous, creepy and cute. He pops out of the screen in a movie that’s already popping out of the screen. I had a lot of fun watching him play Alien. There’s a satirical quality to the movie — at its heart, it’s a critique — and Franco knows this and his performance embodies the kind of guy whose life revolves around money, bikinis, sex, partying and nothing else. Alien is someone who loves what he does, which is being bad. James does it perfectly. He can play the Harrison Ford part and the Mickey Rourke part — often within the same performance. That’s hard to come by.

(Del Toro won a supporting actor Oscar for 2000’s “Traffic.”)

Kate, I love you. The first time I saw you was in “Heavenly Creatures.” I knew then that I would follow you forever. I felt so deeply connected because that’s what you do.

You connect us in the deepest way to all these women you portray. You embody them, personify them, and there is nothing ever self-conscious about it. And with such simplicity! Watching you in “Labor Day,” I felt scared, excited and touched deeply. I felt despair, fear, joy … and then ultimately love. Because that’s what you were going through and you made me feel it. What I feel when I watch you onscreen is that you enter into people and you move them. So thank you for the emotion, for the connection and for the love.

(Cotillard won an Oscar playing Edith Piaf in “La Vie en rose.”)

In “Dallas Buyers Club,” portraying Ron Woodroof, Matthew fearlessly breaks down previous social conventions and crosses stereotype boundaries; the physical — as we see his body wasting away until we as an audience actually fear for him — and the mental — we see the archetype of the bigoted redneck cowboy blossom (at least partially) into a more enlightened human being before our eyes.

Oddly, the partiality of his enlightenment becomes one of the chief sources of much of the comedy from the performance; he never fully abandons who he is, and is all the more believable for it. My favorite scene in the film is when Woodroof scoffs at one of his former friend’s refusal to shake his new transsexual friend Rayon’s (Jared Leto) hand when chance encountering the man in a supermarket.

McConaughey gives a shocked, patient smile, realizing how stupid and pointless his former prejudices were, beaming with understanding. That his priceless expression is followed up promptly by him putting the man in a gripping arm lock and forcing him to then shake Leto’s hand, it becomes a delightfully guilty pleasure piece of a tough man’s noble sense of justice.

(Hirsch will be seen on screens in December in “Lone Survivor.”)

Margo Martindale leads with her heart. There is nothing false or trumped up about the way she communicates. You can see it in her eyes. The way she focuses on the other characters. Margo is first and foremost a “listener.”

She holds your attention because she is totally involved in the moment. This is not an actress who tries to impress you with her craftsmanship. She’s too caught up in telling the story for that. When she speaks her lines, the words stick with force into the soul of her target.

In “August: Osage County,” Mattie Fae’s twisting, surprising story lays out as natural as a country road … no histrionics, no self-conscious flashy bits … just honest, true emotion with way more than a few laughs along the way, courtesy of one of the finest actors of our time, Margo Martindale.

(Bridges co-stars with Martindale on CBS’ “The Millers.”)

Because of Shailene Woodley, Aimee Finicky isn’t just a character in a movie — “The Spectacular Now” — to me, she’s an actual girl colored with deep human emotion. It’s hard for me to separate the character from the actress because Shailene’s performance is so vulnerable, so open and ultimately so real.

And I don’t mean real because the actors weren’t wearing make-up, and many of the scenes played in two shots without a lot of editing tricks, I mean real because I could see Aimee thinking, I could see her taking in information and processing it, I watched her listen and respond in real time. I didn’t even want to blink while watching the film for fear that I would miss a flash in her eyes, a moment of recognition or a decision being made in her head. Shailene’s Aimee was open, honest, heartbreaking and heartbroken, and I was utterly riveted every moment she was on screen.

When I saw Miles audition for “Rabbit Hole,” I was blown away! He was so deeply connected to the words. His face had so much character, it told a story. I could feel the intensity and life experience he brought to the role. Miles, I knew, was a very serious actor with a lot of heart and emotion to bring to the table. And that is exactly what he did with his wonderful and layered performance as Sutter Keely in “The Spectacular Now.”

There are many sides of Miles Teller. He is deeply soulful, but also very funny and a pretty good dancer! All of those elements were needed for the complex character of Sutter. With every nuanced look he was able to expose the sad soul beneath the class clown. He is that rare triple-threat actor that can do it all with commitment, passion and raw talent. Miles has an incredible career ahead of him. He has so much to share with us, with the world.

(Three-time nominee Kidman won an an Academy Award for her portrayal of Virginia Woolf in 2002’s “The Hours.”)

Robert Redford acts without speaking. That is some sort of magic.

Mr. Redford has given many of my favorite performances in his over-50-year career. In “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” “All the President’s Men,” “The Way We Were,” and so many others, he has entertained us while always stirring an emotion within us. He has helped shape this industry through his work and mastery, while at the same time supporting new artists. He is a film legend.

And yet, as I sat watching him play the sole character, Our Man in J.C. Chandor’s, “All Is Lost,” I forgot that this is Robert Redford. He is fully the character: a man lost at sea, willing to survive. I was struck by his physical and emotional endurance, but moreover, I was struck by his lack of dialogue. How does an actor bring us a complete character without dialogue? Mr. Redford is absolutely riveting in “All Is Lost.”

He brings us forward with his silence. Having to convey much of the story through body language, he gives himself freedom to express his emotions fully.

There’s a great immediacy in his acting. He’s not confined to the expected boundaries of cinema. He is an actor who exists only in the moment, an actor who is never self-conscious. We feel his character’s secrets, without knowing them completely. He goes straight to the feeling and his story hits you, like music. Like it has for over 50 years. That is magic.

(Chastain was nominated by the Academy for “Zero Dark Thirty” and “The Help.”)

I have known Melissa Leo since she first walked into the Actors Studio looking like a pre-Raphaelite beauty, with her delicate features and her aureole of flaming red hair.

I’ve watched her develop from that sensitive young talent into a powerfully skilled actress of enormous range.

She finds her way into the psyche of her characters and transforms herself, so that Melissa disappears and we see a new person each time, created with complexity, nuance and remarkable clarity. Melissa’s work in “Prisoners” is a perfect example of her magnificent artistry.

I’m trying to get to the bottom of why my friend, someone I know and love, put terror in me. Perhaps the answer is obvious: He plays a bad man during a time in history where a person was deemed inferior due to the color of their skin.

The inferiority was often felt through slavery, where these people would be tortured, humiliated and punished among many other atrocities. It is a terrifying truth that this happened in the past and continues to happen today in differing circumstances on our planet.

So why did Michael Fassbender terrify me so much?

I think it’s because when I watch his unflinching work in this film, I not only believe in his hatred of those he enslaves (perhaps even of himself and his own family) but I also believe that anything could happen. Many actors can portray “darkness” and there is no doubt he has done that with great skill. But with Michael’s performance in “12 Years a Slave” he does something that few actors are able to pull off — he makes us believe at all times while he is on screen that anything could happen, that we the audience are not safe to trust that our hero will prevail.

History has taught us that anything could happen to this slave, but Michael’s performance makes us understand the helplessness felt in the face of such animal irrationality in that place and time.

Unpredictable, irrational, ruled by his instincts and possibly entirely by his fears, Michael’s performance as the slave-owning Epps terrifies me. Not just because he’s good at “playing dark” but because it suggests to me that the animal within is never far away and that it will constantly be on the lookout for a society in which to nest.

(McAvoy starred in “X-Men: First Class” with Fassbender; other credits include “Atonement” and “Trance.”)

Julia Louis-Dreyfus broke my heart in “Enough Said.” There is not a false moment in the entire film. We expect her to be sharp and charming and funny, but it’s Julia’s willingness to stumble and fall and break in front of our eyes that I found extraordinary.

We watch her character, Eva, make terrible decisions and we still root for her. We see her hurt herself and James Gandolfini’s lovely character Albert, and we forgive her and hope he does, too.

She is so intensely talented that we forget the skill and effort behind the beautiful results. Julia’s artful finesse of this character is so deftly handled that her flaws are the very things that make us fall in love with her.

Julia’s outdone herself, which is no easy feat.

(McCarthy earned an Oscar nomination for “Bridesmaids” and an Emmy Award for “Mike & Molly.”)

Oscar Isaac blurs all distinctions between himself and his character, it’s like watching total fusion. Oscar indicates nothing. There is no demonstration, no bid for sympathy, no judgment by him of his character.

We get to watch a man who is struggling to survive whilst trying not to betray his ideals as a musician and as a person. We feel his fragility and long for his dreams to be fulfilled. The pathos and the humor Oscar brings to the character of an artist who is trying to “make it” and be recognized, is pitch perfect. The notes his performance hits are delicate, true, pure and filled with restraint and longing.

(And did I mention his singing? He makes it look as easy and as necessary as breathing.)

Nowhere in the film do we see the actor at work; we just see a living human being. He has this wonderful, natural burning intensity. A bottomless well of inner life, real vulnerability and strength. The intelligence and depth of feeling he shows us is stunning.

There are no pyrotechnics, just the raw gentle gnawing truth of his character’s bid for freedom.

So honest and bold and unprotected without any coercion or manipulation of his audience.

This is truly one of the great screen performances.

(Weisz won an Oscar for her role in “The Constant Gardener.”)

Christian Bale’s portrayal of the complicated Russell Baze in Scott Cooper’s “Out of the Furnace” is outstanding.

Christian always delivers, but I found this performance especially engaging.

What I love about his work is that he consistently creates characters that are real.

He gives the audience the sense they are a fly on the wall, watching something that isn’t meant to be seen.

Scott Cooper’s wonderful original screenplay and direction have given us the opportunity to see remarkable performances by the entire cast, and Christian, leading the pack, draws us so beautifully into this story with his powerful, subtle performance, that this movie is a one-of-a-kind jewel. It’s the best movie I’ve seen in a long time.

(Bridges, who has six noms, won an Oscar for “Crazy Heart.”)

At the end of “Captain Phillips,” Tom Hanks delivers a scene with such veracity that we all are aware we are watching a character in the throes of a specific and profound emotional shock. Yet, only a very few viewers will ever have ever seen a human being in such an extreme state. Tom makes us recognize a potential inside us all. In these few moments of screen time, Tom transcends traditional acting, and goes far beyond what actors are normally asked to do in movies: He brings a movie to a climax after the story is over solely by an emotional catharsis of his character.

Years ago — more than 15 — when Tom and I were passing thoughts back and forth about acting, he said, “After doing a few movies I thought, wait, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to think seriously about it.” How he achieves his continuing high level of performance, I don’t know, but the best art remains mysterious.

So much of Tom’s performance in “Captain Phillips” is between the lines, in the silences. His presence is felt in the film even when he is off screen or while the camera is on the back of his head. He references his family with a few brush stroke lines between him and Catherine Keener and an anxious letter scribbled in dangerous circumstances while the audience squirms – no schmaltz added as he tells the crew members what his kids are up to.

Far from hitting his marks and saying the lines, he informs the character and the audience simultaneously, often wordlessly. In the final moments of Capt. Phillips, one of the pirates says, “We’ll be home soon.” In a cut of less than two seconds, Tom sighs and blinks, saying nothing. The message is clear: You won’t be going home.

(Martin received an Honorary Oscar on Nov. 16.)

There is something deeply cathartic about the journey Emma Thompson takes us through in “Saving Mr. Banks.” From the first time we see her as P.L. Travers, each berating glance, each caustic remark is delivered with such conviction and adept comic timing that we laugh. We celebrate in her abrasiveness as the very core of political incorrectness. It is a paradoxically warm and hilarious performance.

And then the ghosts of her past begin to claw their way to the surface, she becomes revealed, unraveling in her own turbulent emotional life. We experience a woman who has used intellect and imagination to bury the pains of her youth within the pages of her Mary Poppins books.

The catharsis in this performance rises from the depths of P.L.’s profound sadness. Finally revealed. Felt. A moment of pure emotional reckoning toward the end of the film is so honest in its sense of loss and longing, so brutal in crossing that bridge from the past to the present, that it will stay with me forever. It feels not so much a performance about healing the past as finally allowing oneself to feel it. Maybe that’s what healing is … there is such sublime magic in Emma’s work here.

It’s been said about Hugh Jackman that there is nothing he can’t do, but until his wrenching performance in “Prisoners,” I don’t think people knew just how true that statement was. I was privileged to have Hugh play my father in “Les Miserables” and I know he drew on his own experience as a loving and protective parent for that film.

So I cannot even imagine how difficult it must have been for him to portray a father faced with the worst thing imaginable: a missing child. The raw emotion and desperation that he brought to his performance are so visceral and real.

He shows us the soul of this character and, in doing so, makes us ask ourselves what we would do in his place. That connection to the audience makes his already compelling performance all the more powerful.

(Seyfried was seen this year in the films “Lovelace” and “The Big Wedding.”)

I completely agree with Diane Kruger’s comments about Jared Leto. I used some of the exact same words to describe his performance. Heartbreaking sums it up. Instead of being a caricature, Rayon is someone I fell in love with during the movie. It was beautifully acted and I hope to see Jared receive many awards for this performance.

It’s interesting how Hugh Jackman seems to portray father roles, albeit in very different circumstances, so well. Real Steel, Les Miserables, and now Prisoners are all insights to his ability to create realistic portrayals of how a father acts to protect or to relate to his child.

Whoopie Goldberg digs deep in her poetic praise of Lupita Nyong’O for 12 YEARS A SLAVE, and who better to do so since Whoopie debuted in THE COLOR PURPLE? Ralph Fiennes insightfully captures the accomplishment of Chiwetel Ejiofor in 12 YEARS A SLAVE. And Candice Bergen says what I’ve known about Sandra Bullock since SPEED and was reminded of in GRAVITY: she’s got legs and skills for days!